


Swan Song

by JackieSBlake7



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7338961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackieSBlake7/pseuds/JackieSBlake7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Gauda Prime Blake is sent to Cygnus Alpha</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swan Song

Arlen had been right.  
So had Deva.  
But there was nobody left for Blake to say, “You were right” to.  
Tarrant *had* misunderstood what was going on. If his path and Avon’s had crossed at a different point on the Gauda Prime base, Avon would not have shot Blake… probably. Things would then *somehow*.have developed differently   
Not that Blake would ever know now *what* had driven Avon to shooting him before waiting for an answer, or whether he had *intended* to shoot to temporally disable rather than kill. Which had resulted in Blake being the sole survivor of the events at the base on Gauda Prime.  
The troopers had obeyed orders to dispose of most bounty hunters, and keep a token few of those who had survived for a display “trial”, rather than pursue the now deceased Arlen’s claim of rebels and traitors.  
So it had been explained to Blake, when he had recovered sufficiently from his injuries.  
His identity, once he had stated it, had been confirmed – and he had expected to be tried and executed – but such was not to be the case.  
It had been decided for various reasons –his involvement in the Intergalactic War, his present relative obscurity and his potential future usefulness – that his original sentence of life imprisonment on Cygnus Alpha would be reimposed. There were other rebels now who were seen as greater threats – including Avon and his associates, whose deaths were not confirmed – Blake had not chosen to mention their presence on the base. Orac, Blake could deduce had tampered with the records: where the computer was now was unclear – possibly it had transferred itself to a new housing, as it had once said, on being asked, was feasible, or was influencing matters indirectly. What had happened to the Liberator itself nobody knew.

Cygnus Alpha’s main “resources” were that it was potentially habitable with much work – and it could serve as a forward post for marking the Federation’s expansion in the region when it had the capacity to do so – the battle in which the London and the future Liberator had been caught had been effectively in no man’s space. Like other such planets, the population was being allowed to develop what was available until the Federation was able to take over. There was, Blake had learnt on his travels, at least some truth in the stories of settlers turning not-quite barren planets into semi-paradises, or at least reasonably habitable: they at least had freedom from Federation interference – as on Exbar. With the destruction of Star One and the climate control it provided, expansionism on the cheap, on planets that required little manipulation or Federation input to make them habitable, was particularly desirable. There were those now in the administration who were prepared to send opponents of the existing regime into exile rather than execute them – and let them discover the realities of organisation thereby. They could also then be made use of, should the situation change.

The population of Cygnus Alpha was a mixed bunch of “locals”, more newly sent prisoners, and, other incomers, some of them, surprisingly, voluntarily here. There were more people than Vargas had claimed – other settlements existed, possibly beyond his knowledge and others who had been excluded from his community, and there had been a significant influx since Blake had come here. Purges, crackdowns on Outsiders and others, along with the many political coups within the Federation – some losers were too important to execute – accounted for most of the increase. There was also a transient population – those operating on the margins, wishing to use a temporary base where the Federation would not look for them, or to make use of those sent here for whatever reasons. There was thus a certain amount of communication offworld. Blake knew he had to remain – for the foreseeable future at least, decided to make the best of the situation.

As he studied the planet’s somewhat confusing historical records Blake began to understand *why* Vargas’ ancestor had imposed his system on the initial colony of prisoners and their descendants. With the destruction of the old order following Blake’s visit, a new system had to be developed, and Blake had contributed to developments. It was ironical, he thought, that he was learning *here* the lessons he should have known when he was trying to organise the rebellion. Avon, came the thought, would have made a suitable retort, about the discovery – and on the fact that he would have no direct opportunity to use it in the wider galaxy.  
Still, there were occasional departures –people with useful skills, or who had associates elsewhere who could arrange their recall, or whose opponents had since left office in turn. Blake was aiming to influence such people – a single rebel or reformer within the system, exiled or travelling freely, could not change the Federation, but a general plan discussed by many, developing as it spread, evolving to suit particular requirements might. Those passing through were also willing to discuss such matters, as part of “the usual topics.” From what new prisoners said, as time passed, it seemed Blake #was# contributing indirectly to such changes – the occasional phrase he had come up with was repeated back to him verbatim, or idea presented in a form that he had to admit was more elegant. There were a few that reminded him, too, of those that he had known, and a small trickle of equipment, brought, co-opted or otherwise made available, while skills brought in helped develop what could now be described as a viable local economy.

****

Blake looked at the newly printed book presented to him with a certain measure of pride. His time here would not be totally forgotten. Even Vargas would have been interested in this history of the communities of Cygnus Alpha – and of the volumes of biographies of incomers and others, narrated and remembered. Blake’s companions of various dates were known of on this planet – there were even some jumbled fragments about what Avon and his companions had been doing after Blake had parted from them: while occasional mentions of Orac showed that it was still, somehow, influencing other computers, even if Blake was not in a position to discover more. In the libraries now developing across Cygnus Alpha there were, among many other volumes, enough theories of revolution and plans for what to do should such succeed for at least one to be successful… and those here were developing ways of exporting their knowledge of all kinds, some of which paid.  
Once Blake had been a rebel hero, considering how he could influence the galaxy, now he was pleased with this volume – and others had taken on his role in the rebellion. Avon had predicted the latter would happen, when making one of his periodic attempts to move away from the rebellion to more interesting things.

No use speculating on might-have-beens, and there was a new consignment of prisoners to be welcomed.

‘You’ll have to be careful at this rate,’ the ship’s captain said. ‘Make this area look too attractive and the Federation will take the planet over sooner than planned, and then what’ll you do?’ The crews of the prison ships welcomed a brief period of escape from their months’ long routine. The captains normally ignored the minor barter that went on, when they were not participating in it themselves, often pleased to have some of the local delicacies as a change from ship’s food – there were even occasional orders for “the next time we are here.” Some of the locally printed pamphlets, left out on display rather than actively offered, were usually at least glanced at or even occasionally removed by the crews – somewhat illegal, but allowed, and, as Blake had learnt, having an effect. There was also a certain influx of material – in some cases with deliberate intent.  
‘Make me an offer for the place,’ Blake replied with a smile.  
‘The way things are going, we might ask the same of you.’ Taken as the joke it half was. ‘Still waiting for the promised pay rise.’  
‘Some of them at the top aren’t,’ a crewmember said. ‘Costs up, shortages, nothing what it used to be… and there are those who think the rebels’ promised reforms make sense.’ He looked at the captain to see the response.  
‘I won’t repeat that remark if you don’t,’ Blake said, smiling: the captain nodded in reply. He wished to interview the prisoners soon, know who the rebels were now. Though, as someone had said after one such discussion, the revolution would probably take place by people voting with their feet rather than being led.  
‘And things are likely to change rapidly when they do. Or so they say.’  
‘One thing even I can predict,’ Blake said. ‘There’ll always be a demand for ships’ crews and officers.’ Nods of agreement at this remark: he had the impression that this was not a new topic of discussion.  
‘No doubt – not everything could be sent by the proverbial teleport that doesn’t work.’  
They would not believe Blake if he said it #did# exist and #could# work.  
‘The authorities have developed a new plan – send all the protesters to frontier planets where they can build the society they want, and the Federation then collects a percentage of what they create in taxes to cover costs of transport and adopt anything that works. That way everybody’s happy – so they claim.’  
Blake had developed the plan – based on a remark Avon had made after a “conference” of rebels long ago those on the Liberator had attended, and pursued it as far as he could on Gauda Prime. No doubt Avon would have been amused by this chain of events, whatever the actual origin of the idea.  
‘Makes more sense than suppressant drugs,’ one of the crew members said. ‘Captain – how many of us can go to the leaving do?’

****

Blake was reviewing the reports on the latest newcomers. More stories, fragments of news, about the latest rebels and others. As usual, the slight tinge of regret that others were taking on the role he had once had… but would he leave now if he was given the opportunity? Here he could measure, and enjoy, his success – off-planet who would remember him?  
‘We have one more woman prisoner to interview,’ one of his subordinates said. Women prisoners were more frequent than in the past – to some extent their allocation was a measure of the planet’s increasing success. ‘Claims she wants to speak to you personally.’  
Probably to say the usual remarks about admiring Blake.  
‘Why not.’  
It took him a few moments to recognise the visitor. Time had not served her well, and it had been years since their last contact. But – she was still an attractive woman… and he would consider the possibilities. Time to consider who might succeed him.  
‘Servalan!’  
Perhaps he would learn a few last things about his friends from long ago. Not that he had thought of them in … too long now. A fault he should correct.  
‘Yes – it is I,’ she replied.  
‘The stories were that you were dead.’  
‘Obviously, they were wrong.’ Servalan smiled. ‘I have a plan. You are not entirely forgotten even now.’  
Blake thought about the situation for a few moments. The temptation would always be there… but this was not the way. He had possibly more influence than he had in the old days, even if it was indirect.  
‘No Servalan. All you can offer me is your past, and knowledge – about the people we both knew.’  
‘Blake the rebel, refusing a chance of help to leave this place?’ Her surprise was genuine.  
‘You have come here – what can you offer? We may be remembered – but our time has passed.’ He accepted the situation – there were few opportunities for regrets: and he #was# successful on Cygnus Alpha. When Servalan told her story and read those of others here, she would come to understand that as well.  
‘Blake... What happened to your dreams?’  
‘Accept what is here, Servalan. We will not return to what we had. This is your future.’ Blake waved to indicate the planet. Looking out of the window it was greener than when he had arrived all those years ago, and the community was now large enough to be considered a town – due in no small part to his efforts. ‘Others’ dreams may become realities – the most we can do is influence them.’  
‘I will fight back. I will change things and return.’  
Blake had had that dream too. The illusion that he might lead the opposition to victory had long gone: now he was satisfied with contributing to the government of this world, and inspiring others to develop what could be – and being remembered thereby.  
‘You will come to understand the situation.’  
‘We will leave this planet…’  
‘Eventually. But as observers, not actors.’ Blake saw the doubt in her eyes.  
‘I cannot accept that. I #need# power.’  
Blake picked up the book, indicated the others on the shelves. ‘There are ideas here first recorded millennia ago, influencing us now. Your experience, the information we have accumulated here – imagine what we can do…’  
‘I made that offer to Avon once… Imagination our only limit.’  
‘That is all we have – what can we create together?’


End file.
